


Making a Mime Sing

by Slush



Category: Carmen Sandiego (Cartoon 2019)
Genre: Absolutely cursed as hell, Cupboard Sex, F/M, First Time Blow Jobs, Goes from 0 to Cupboard Blow Jobs real quick, I can't believe I'm a certified mime-fucker, I cried whilst writing this, M/M, Mimes, Other, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:53:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26149759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slush/pseuds/Slush
Summary: You, the reader, are a recent V.I.L.E. graduate who has been crushing on Mime Bomb. Frustratingly for you, Mime Bomb has noticed and seems to enjoy teasing you. You eventually decide it's time to make a move. [All characters 18+] [Reader / Mime Bomb]
Relationships: Mime Bomb (Carmen Sandiego)/Reader
Comments: 14
Kudos: 63





	Making a Mime Sing

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Mimes Deserve Smooches Too](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18139271) by [Dapper_Chicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dapper_Chicken/pseuds/Dapper_Chicken). 



> THIS IS CURSED AS HELL!!!! 
> 
> I started rewatching Carmen Sandiego just a few days ago, and I swear to GOD, I didn't know I was a mime-fucker. I did know that I really really liked Mime Bomb's character... but I thought that was totally innocent. I didn't realise until I typed 'mime bomb' into Google, and it prefilled my search with 'mime bomb x reader', which was the moment I realised I was actually thirsty for his mime dick. 
> 
> Anyway, I guess this was semi-inspired by Dapper_Chicken's '7 minutes in heaven Mime Bomb x reader' fic, whose reader ALSO ended up jacking off a mime in a closet. My initial thought when I realised I had the hots for Mimosa Bombosa was 'imagine trying to make Mime Bomb moan', so once I read their fic I guess the closet idea resonated and here we have it. 
> 
> My first Carmen Sandiego fic, and my second 'reader x' fic. 
> 
> That's all LMAO enjoy 
> 
> \--- 
> 
> For a guy who never speaks, he sure does know how to use his tongue.

You didn’t quite understand why, but for whatever reason, you couldn’t get that _damned Mime_ out of your head. 

He should be easy to forget. Amongst the other newly-qualified V.I.L.E. operatives, there were a plethora of attractive, charismatic singletons within your reach who were just waiting to be flirted with – but however hard you tried, forcing your attention towards the various dimpled smiles, gymnast physiques and voluptuous lips on offer, your eyes and your mind alike invariably drifted towards the strange, lanky redhead with the painted face. 

And whenever the Mime noticed your lingering glances – which was, to your great embarrassment, a fairly frequent affair – the boy would dip his beret and wink in your direction, immediately causing you to turn your head away in an attempt to hide the resulting flood of colour in your cheeks. He knew of your interest in him, and he enjoyed teasing you for it, and that was surely the worst thing about it all. You’d think that the quietest boy in the cohort, and indeed perhaps in the entire world, would by definition be ‘shy’ – particularly as, other than his monopoly in the ‘charades and sign language’ field, he had little else to offer, possessing practically no physical prowess like the rest of the operatives. The guy couldn’t even _run away_ without miming it. He was pathetic. And yet… he didn’t back down. He was confident. In fact, he was _cocky_. And, you realised, that was surely one of the things that made him so… alluring. 

It was early afternoon one day when you came across Mime Bomb in the V.I.L.E. corridors. He was lurking, as usual, and had clearly spotted you before you had registered him. He leant against the wall, his arms folded, and his favourite smirk on his painted lips as he coolly regarded you. 

You stopped where you stood, meeting his gaze. It was surely one of the Mime’s favourite past-times: loitering around the corridors, waiting to catch somebody in the act of committing something shady, which he could use to either blackmail or otherwise feed back to the faculty to curry favour. 

He’d even caught you on a couple of occasions – one such time being when you had attempted to sneak out a bottle of vodka you’d picked up from a caper which you were to share with Sheena and Gray on the beach late one night; only to be caught red-handed by the Mime, who was once again leaning casually against the wall and waiting for you to beg for his silence. 

A funny term to use, given that silence was the one thing that was always guaranteed from the mute. 

On that occasion, you had secured his promise to turn a blind eye on the vodka in exchange for your leftover packet of Nerd Ropes. Sure, the bribe in itself wasn’t anything especially devastating, and you were happy that your Nerd Ropes were somehow enough to keep Mime Bomb happy, but it was the guy’s smugness in the power he knew he held over you that really drove you up the wall. 

In any case, you couldn’t help but feel slightly concerned as the Mime now observed you with that look on his face that suggested _he knew something you didn’t._

Staring back at the boy, you raised your finger and pointed it at your chest. _Me?_ you silently asked, tilting your head in feigned innocence. 

Mime Bomb closed his eyes and nodded, slowly. 

Well then. You may as well bite. 

You sauntered up to Mime Bomb and stopped by his side. 

“What do you want, Mime Bomb?” you asked, deciding you had reached the extent of your sign language for now. You had picked up a few simple phrases from sharing classes with the Mime, but you, like all others except from the great Charades Master himself, preferred to use words where you could. 

The Mime simply raised his eyebrows at you, that same infuriating smirk still smacked across his face. 

You tried again. 

“Do you want something from me?” 

The boy made a show of shrugging before looking back down at you from where he stood. Seeing your unimpressed expression, he rolled his hands together in the air in front of his chest. _‘Something like that’,_ you interpreted that to mean. 

You swallowed, feeling that familiar warmth creeping up your neck just from the way the redhead was now looking down at you. 

“You… _do_ want something from me?”

He mused for a moment at your question, and then nodded. 

“Like what? What… can I give you?” 

His smirk spread into a grin, his white teeth flashing at you in mockery. You felt your cheeks burning now, and had a feeling that he was simply doing this because he enjoyed making you uncomfortable. 

Just as you were about to turn away and leave Mime Bomb to find someone else to annoy, he reached out to you, and grabbed hold of your chin. He tilted your face up towards his, and smirked down at you. Your cheeks were now burning red hot. 

“Stop teasing me, you asshole,” you said, swatting his hand away. 

He pointed at you, and then cupped his hands together by the side of his head, blinking repeatedly, imitating a crushing schoolgirl. Imitating _you_. 

Yeah, that was the final straw. 

Without thinking, you grabbed the Mime’s wrist and dragged him towards the nearest storage cupboard. Opening the door, you pushed him in first, then closed the door behind you, and flicked the lock. It was only around 2 or 3pm – the corridors were hardly empty, with various students and operatives making their way around the campus, but you had moved so quickly that you were sure no one had seen you both entering the cupboard. 

You turned to face the Mime, expecting to see a look of alarm on his face, but instead he was staring at you with folded arms. He then raised an eyebrow, as if to say, ‘what now’? 

You took a single step towards him, and saw a smile tug at the corner of his lips. 

A challenge. 

You took another step – you were so close to him now. He looked down at you with a daring glint in his teal eyes. And then he winked. 

That cocky son-of-a-bitch. 

You grabbed Mime Bomb by his shoulders, and kissed him with a force that saw him stumble back against the wall. You felt his hands immediately snake their way around your waist, holding you close to him as you savoured the sensation of soft lips against your own. It was all so overwhelming that you barely had a moment to register how proud you felt of yourself for finally standing up to him – even if ‘standing up for yourself’ happened to mean giving Mime Bomb what he seemingly wanted the whole time, judging by the way he was now passionately kissing you back. 

You felt his mouth part, and a tongue slipped between your lips, lapping at your upper lip to request access. You opened your mouth to allow it, the Mime’s slick nimble tongue darting in and sliding against your own. 

For a guy who never speaks, he sure does know how to use his tongue. 

“So he does have a tongue after all,” you say, breaking the kiss to smirk at him. He looked at you with a smug intensity that made your stomach knot. 

You were also surprised to note that his makeup was more-or-less intact, the red lipstick not smudged on his face despite the kissing. It must be expensive stuff, you reckoned. 

Leaning back in to kiss him, you let your hands rest on his chest and allowed him to cradle your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb. Mindlessly, you let one of your hands slip down over his torso, finding the bottom of his striped shirt which you proceeded to lift up, spreading your fingers out to feel his soft, warm skin. The Mime flinched slightly at the contact of your hands, but didn’t break the kiss. 

You lifted the shirt up higher, feeling the dip of his belly button and soft, lithe muscles against your fingers. Encouraged by the hungry kisses and by the gentle caresses of his hand now in your hair, your other hand snaked down to find his waistband, and you hooked your fingers over the material. 

You leaned back now, wanting to observe his reaction. There was a slight surprise in his eyes, his eyebrows raised as he studied you – but he didn’t make any suggestion that he wanted you to stop. He was simply watching. Doing what he does best. 

You better give him something good to watch. 

Your fingers and thumb fiddled with his pant fastenings, finding the button which you quickly unhook. You tugged the zip down – this seemed to trigger more alarm. Mime Bomb’s eyes were wide, staring at you, startled. The deer caught in the headlights. 

He looked down at your hands, and then back up at your face. _‘What is he trying to say?’_ you thought. 

“Do you want me to stop?” you whispered. 

He looked quizzically upwards at the ceiling, as if trying to think, then looked back down and made an unsure expression, the corner of his mouth pulling down slightly. 

You quickly withdraw your hands from his pants, not wishing to continue if he wasn’t comfortable, but this caused him to raise his hands and shake his head – _‘no, no, not that’_ ; clearly not the response he was after. Mime Bomb took your hands and guided them back to his waistband, and then smiled at you, a surprisingly innocent, warm, smile. He had a naïve enthusiasm in his eyes. It was endearing. 

“You want me to continue?” you said quietly. 

He kept his smile and nodded, before bringing a single long index finger up to his red lips. 

_Shhhh._

“Ahhh, you want me to keep quiet,” you said. He smiled in affirmation. “Sure,” you whispered. 

You continued with his pants, tugging them down past his hips and letting them fall to his ankles where he kicked them off. Your eyes quickly took in the sight of Mime Bomb’s dick straining against his boxers, and you looked up at him with a grin. He was leaning against the shelves now, his hands gripping the edges of the shelves for support as he looked down at you with desperate eyes. The composure of his painted mask was finally beginning to break, you noticed, watching a drop of sweat slowly roll down his temple. 

You gently pulled out his cock from his boxers, watching Mime Bomb’s face carefully as you did so, relishing in the expression of him closing his eyes and pursing his lips to let out a long, controlled exhalation of breath. 

Your fingers gently wrapped around the head of his cock, slowly rolling the foreskin down to the base, where your grip tightened. You glanced up again and saw Mime Bomb in full concentration now, his eyes screwed shut and biting down on his lower lip. You ran your grip back up along its length, watching as a drip of pre-cum rolled out from the head. You wanted to taste it, but in that moment you simply couldn’t take your eyes off him. 

You worked Mime Bomb slowly but steadily, building up a regular pumping action that saw his knuckles turn even whiter as he gripped the shelf in desperation. His body seemed to tense every time you rolled his foreskin down to the base, squeezing down just tightly enough for the boy’s legs to twitch, which quickly gave you a feel for what he enjoyed. 

But his reaction also gave you another thought – it was exciting to see Mime Bomb in the throes of passion, but you couldn’t help but wonder just how far this might be able to go. If squeezing down at the base made his legs tremble slightly, what might cause him to go that little bit further – say, a moan? _Was_ he able to moan? 

Thoughts racing through your head as you rolled your wrist up and down his length, you decided you simply _had_ to find out. 

You were going to make this mime sing. 

You glanced back up at Mime Bomb’s face to gauge his state of mind, and were slightly taken back at the sight of him gazing down at you, his painted eyes half-lidded, and his lips parted as he breathed heavily. It was the most noise you’d heard from him yet. The realisation alone sent butterflies to your stomach. 

You inched your face towards his cock, and his eyes widened as he realised what you were about to do – his face suddenly contorting into an expression that appeared equal parts pleasure and fear. You parted your lips to accept his cock into your mouth, letting the head slide against your tongue, the sound of Mime Bomb’s panting a delight to your ears. But it wasn’t enough. You wanted more. 

Mime Bomb’s length sunk deeper into your mouth, and you closed your lips around its base as you accepted it fully. You tried not to gag as it hit the back of your throat; the Mime was surprisingly big – perhaps that is the source of his inherent confidence, you found yourself wondering. You moved your head back slightly, positioning your mouth to allow the head to press against the inside of your cheek instead, feeling it push against the soft, wet skin there, and heard his panting get louder still. You risked another glance up and saw his eyebrows drawn tightly together, his eyes closed again, clearly trying to summon every last remnant of control as he received what appeared to be his first blowjob. 

Truth be told, it was also your first attempt at delivering one, but thankfully you’d partaken in enough late-night chats with Sheena to pick up a few tips. You silently thanked Sheena for her advice, which was now working a charm in unravelling the Mime in your mouth. 

Allowing his cock to again sink to the back of your throat, your eyes began to water. You could taste the salty precum leaking from his tip. Not far to go now. 

It was almost time to employ what Sheena called, ‘the explosive finale’. 

You curled your hand around the base of Mime Bomb’s cock again, moving your mouth so that your lips met the skin of your thumb and index finger, in turn forming a long, tight, wet entity around the boy’s length. You sucked a little harder as you worked slowly up and down his cock, forming a gentle suction, and rolling both your grip and your mouth up and down his length in a rotating corkscrew motion. Your eyes stung with tears again. You focused on maintaining the movement. 

Just as you were beginning to reach the end of your limit, unable to resist the gag reflexes any longer, you heard it. The boy… squeaked. 

It sounded like a high-pitched whine, and you immediately shot your glance up to his face, whilst still keeping his member safely in your mouth. Sure enough, his jaw was slack, his head rolling backwards as he whined again. 

You were immediately filled with a fiery new resolve; the moisture instantly clearing from your eyes as you increased the suction around his length, gliding your tongue back and forth over the skin as you kept the pumping motion going. There was another squeak, and you saw Mime Bomb reach up a hand to quickly clamp over his mouth in a desperate attempt to muffle any further noises. You felt like you had succeeded at revealing from him a secret which he had been keeping from everybody else – and he hadn’t even released his load into your mouth yet. 

The palm now pressed against his lips did little to stifle the next sound – a single moan, deeper and even more delicious than the previous noises. 

You immediately felt his other hand at the back of your head, and it made a fist in your hair, apparently in some shallow attempt to regain control of the situation. You took this as a sign to continue, sucking him in so deeply that the muscles of your throat spasmed over and over as he repeatedly hit the back of your mouth. 

A sense of recklessness washed over you. You wanted one last sound – one that would be loud enough to alert any passer-bys in the corridor as to what was going on in this storage cupboard. You quickly reached your other hand up to cup his balls, and began kneading them gently, combining all of your efforts into one last attempt to truly undo Mime Bomb and achieve this great feat. 

And there it was. 

Mime Bomb let out a deep, bedraggled groan of abandon; one almost of pain, and one that was barely quietened by the efforts of his palm. His hips thrusted forward once, unexpectedly, his cock sinking deeper into your mouth – and suddenly you felt the sensation of hot liquid shooting against the back of your throat. 

You kept Mime Bomb in your mouth as he spurted the last of his load onto your tongue. When you were sure he was fully spent, you slowly removed him from your mouth, and swallowed, drinking up every last salty drop of Mime Bomb’s release. 

You looked up at the boy’s face. He had a hand fisted in his unruly red hair, his beret nearly falling off the top of his head. His makeup was rather smudged, now – the once sharp edges of black against white now frayed from the tears that had escaped his eyes. Red was smeared around his lips from when he had clamped his hand around his mouth. He smiled down at you with watery eyes; sheepishly, but warmly. 

You smiled back up at him. 

“You could’ve been a bit quieter, you know,” you muttered. 

Mime Bomb gave an over-the-top roll of his eyes at that comment, but grinned. 

You turned away to let him regain his composure, allowing him to pull his pants back up and rearrange the beret on his head. From the corner of your eye you saw him trying to correct the blotched makeup on his face, but with nothing to serve as a mirror, and so you moved to help him then, licking your finger and gently rubbing away the smudges. 

Mime Bomb, for all his smug looks and cocky performances that you had previously associated with him as a V.I.L.E. operative, now almost looked a little embarrassed as you tended to his face. You imagined it had something to do with the noises you had managed to pull from him; let alone his shooting his load into your mouth. 

It was funny – it felt as though the tables were now somewhat _even_. 

When you decided you were both ready to step back out into the corridor, you turned to unlock the cupboard door. But before you could do so, Mime Bomb reached out to stop you. 

You turned to face him, and stared as he proceeded to kneel down to pluck an invisible flower off the floor. He held it between his thumb and forefinger – a rose, you realised, its stem lined with equally invisible thorns – and presented it to you. Any other time and you would have rolled your eyes at such a gesture, but now, seeing Mime Bomb’s smile of genuine happiness as he held out the rose to you, you simply couldn’t help but mime taking the rose from his fingers and holding it before you with a smile. 

His hands now free of invisible roses, he signed a final message to you before allowing you to unlock the cupboard door. 

_‘I look forward to returning the favour’._

And, you found, so did you.

**Author's Note:**

> LEFT IT OPEN FOR A SEQUEL, HUH???? I wonder how well old Mimey's makeup would last having someone SIT ON HIS FACE????? SHALL WE FIND OUT?????


End file.
